


Well-Dressed

by Morpheus626



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:27:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25042375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morpheus626/pseuds/Morpheus626
Summary: How hard can it possibly be to get dressed for a concert? Harder than you might think, for various reasons including the trouble of buttons and entrapping trousers.
Kudos: 18





	Well-Dressed

**Author's Note:**

> Literally all that happened here was I saw a picture of Bri with his shirt basically almost completely unbuttoned, and my brain led me to this. It’s silly and short, but it was fun!

“How long should it take someone to put on a shirt?” 

“Context?” Freddie asked as he pulled on his own shirt. 

“How do you mean?” John asked.

“Like have they lost use of their hands, does the shirt fit them, are they even putting it on right-” 

“They’re Brian,” John interrupted, and pointed.

At the other end of the room stood Brian, fussing with his button up shirt. First buttoning more of the buttons, then unbuttoning them, then buttoning them again, only to promptly unbutton at least a few once more. 

“He’s finally lost it,” John hummed. “Tragic. And over a shirt.” 

“Stop,” Freddie hushed. “Where’s Rog?” 

John shrugged. “Maybe he’s trapped trying to figure out a pair of trousers.” 

“In a mood, are we?” 

“I have been watching him do this for the past twenty minutes,” John sighed. “And we need to be on stage soon, and-” 

“I’ve got it,” Freddie interrupted. “Worry not.” 

“I’m still going to worry.” 

“And that’s your right, but it will be for naught,” Freddie replied. “Right Brian?” 

Brian jumped, hands still on a button. “…what am I about to say yes to?” 

“Do you really need to know?” Freddie teased.

“Now I absolutely need to know,” Brian smiled. “What?” 

“John is concerned we won’t make it to the stage-” 

“I didn’t say that, I’m more worried we’ll just be late,” John interrupted. 

“Because you can’t seem to finish getting your shirt on and as far as we know, Roger has disappeared, held hostage by his trousers,” Freddie continued. 

“I mean I don’t know about Rog,” Brian said. “Where is he?” 

“Not sure, but presumably he’s somewhere at the very least,” Freddie answered. “But we’re talking about you. The buttons, what’s the issue?” 

“Ah,” Brian sighed, and looked down to his shirt as if he was somehow just seeing the buttons for the first time. “It’s silly.” 

“Sort of figured that,” John muttered.

“John!” Freddie hissed.

“Just because I’m taking some care into what I look like onstage, unlike some of us-” Brian started.

“Brian!” Freddie sighed in exasperation. “Enough, both of you! I don’t know what this is, but put it away until after the show.” 

“Then we can yell at each other to our heart’s content?” John asked with a smirk.

“No, then you can sit down and rest and not take out your bad moods on each other,” Freddie said. “And I might finally be at peace.” 

“That’s a bit dramatic,” Brian scoffed, then immediately looked down as Freddie sent him a withering glare. 

“What can we do to help you with this?” Freddie sighed, running a finger up by the buttons of Brian’s shirt. 

“We?” John laughed. “How did I get roped into this?” 

“You’re the one who brought it to my attention!” Freddie said. “Why wouldn’t you be included in the rest of this?” 

John shrugged. “Thought I might go find Roger, actually.” 

Freddie pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply. “You know what? You go do that. Go rescue him from his trousers.” 

John trotted off, and Brian tried and failed to bite back a laugh. 

“Just like having kids, isn’t it?” 

“Honestly?” Freddie asked. “If you ever wonder why I won’t have children, it’s because I have all of you, and that is plenty. Any more and I’m liable to lose my mind completely. I mean, I’m used to herding cats, but you lot, some days…” 

“Extra cat-like cats?” 

Freddie nodded, and examined the buttons on Brian’s shirt. “They look fine, so what is it?” 

“I don’t know how many of them is too much, you know?” Brian fussed with the button in his hand. “If it’s too open, or too closed, or-” 

“Just wear it how you’re comfortable,” Freddie interrupted with a scoff. “You’re overthinking it, darling.” 

“I mean…some of the fans like it, you know…and not that I’m doing it just for them,” Brian said.

“But the confidence boost is nice when the girls all shout over seeing your chest,” Freddie grinned. “Still, just wear it how you like. They’ll shout for you regardless.” 

Brian nodded, but his hand still twitched at the buttons. 

“Oh, goodness,” Freddie sighed. “Let me try something, hm?” 

“Fashion advice?” 

“Sure,” Freddie said, and started to unbutton the rest of the buttons on Brian’s shirt. “There. Fixed it!” 

Brian stared down at the strip of his bare skin. “But…” 

“Just try it,” Freddie said. “It solves the issue of you forever doing and undoing your buttons, and you might like it. Or not, and then you’ll be able to better figure out the buttons issue because you’ll have a starting point on how you don’t want it.” 

Brian nodded his head. “I was overthinking it.”

“By a lot,” Freddie replied. “But no harm done, it happens. I’m just glad we’ve got you out of that loop of messing about with them. We’ve got five minutes to stage to spare even.” 

They headed for the door, only to nearly be pushed over by John. 

“You found Roger?” Freddie asked. 

“Stuck in his trousers,” John replied briskly as he shuffled through their bags, until he found a scissors. 

Brian and Freddie exchanged a look. 

“What?” Brian asked with an unbelieving chuckle. 

“He’s stuck in them,” John said matter-of-factly, and strode past them quickly with the scissors. 

“…we should go help,” Freddie murmured, his eyes following the glint of light off the scissors as John walked away. 

“It might be fine,” Brian said, only to wince as they heard a yelp from Roger. “Or they’ll manage to slice up his legs. You’re right, we should go…” 

The five minutes they were late seemed to be no mind to the crowd, who expressed no particular notice of it. There was talk of Brian’s ‘flashy’ (for him) wearing or rather not-exactly-wearing of his shirt, and a mention that Roger seemed to be wearing surprisingly loose trousers that didn’t appear to be his, by the length (and belonged in fact to another member of the road crew, though no one but them knew that.) 

“Overall, could have been so much worse,” Freddie said as they changed backstage. 

“I still can’t feel my legs,” Roger grimaced. 

“But you felt them well enough to play wonderfully, and you’ll not wear those trousers again, so still, not as bad as it could have been,” Freddie replied. 

“They’re in shreds, how would I wear them again?” Roger scoffed. “Though maybe you want them, Bri? Make it an ensemble, chest out, underwear showing with just these shreds fluttering round your legs?” 

“You’re hilarious, Rog,” Brian said, and shook his head. 

“I absolutely am, thank you,” Roger grinned. “Ah, one last thing.” 

He slowly made his way to John, and handed over a few bills. “Would have been another if we’d hit the ten minute mark, though I’m glad we didn’t.” 

Freddie watched the exchange and scoffed. “Did you two bet on how late we would be to the stage tonight?” 

“Being late is the worst,” Roger said defensively. “This was just a way to make it a bit better, a bit of fun. And it’s my money, and look who I have to give it to!” 

John grinned a la the Cheshire Cat, and shrugged. “I had a good feeling. And it made me money. No harm in making some good out of the bad.” 

“Is the good going to buy as a round once we get to the bar?” Freddie asked, and gestured to the money in John’s hand. 

“What else would I use it for?” John scoffed, as if it were the most ridiculous thing he had heard. 

“I’m out a pair of trousers,” Roger, mused. 

“Drunken trouser shopping?” John asked, only to laugh as Roger pulled him out of the room with a happy shout. 

“We’re going to get kicked out of a shop, is what we’re actually doing, right?” Brian chuckled. 

“Absolutely,” Freddie replied, taking Brian by the arm as they followed John and Roger out. “But we’ll see that we at least get the shopping done before we get thrown out.” 

An uncounted number of drinks, one pair of new trousers, and three less-than-pleased shop owners, they had done just that.


End file.
